


Holding Thin Air

by ThatSanguineYouth



Category: Henry IV Part 1 - Shakespeare, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Real Person Fiction, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Crack Crossover, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Shakespeare Quotations, The Hollow Crown: Henry IV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-12
Updated: 2014-09-12
Packaged: 2018-02-17 02:24:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2293490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatSanguineYouth/pseuds/ThatSanguineYouth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki invades the set of Age of Ultron, projects paparazzi to keep everyone busy, and then taunts and torments RDJ while quoting a very life-imitating-art monologue from Henry IV. See notes for in-depth apologies, disclaimers, and general back-pedaling.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Holding Thin Air

**Author's Note:**

> Even though this is tagged as RPF, I understand that the persona that an actor presents to the public can be just as much of a character as any role that they play. This story is done in that spirit. On the off chance that this is read by anyone who would be offended by the portrayal of the actor in question, please know that I meant no offense. 
> 
> How this came about: too many viewings of The Hollow Crown trilogy (is there such a thing?) and an interview in which Hiddleston and RDJ where when asked what superpower they would like to have in real life, Hiddleston says something to the effect of wanting to project himself like Loki and then vaporize, 'so when someone came in for the awkward hug, you could disappear and they would be left hugging thin air [looking] like a tit.' And thus, this ugly plot bunny was born. 
> 
> This is unbeta'ed, all mistakes are mine, feel free to call them out as you see them if they bug you.

“Get the talent in their pens and get those assholes out of here!” Barked a set-hand as he saw another flash and a long-range camera lens pointed in his direction. This nighttime shoot was proving challenging enough without paparazzi storming the set. They’d kept the filming chaos-free for a month now, and just as the entire cast had converged upon the set, this happens; paparazzi everywhere. Every time the radio went quiet there was another member of security, a personal assistant, or other member of the crew reporting a fleeting glimpse of a paparazzo, nosing around near costumes or trailers that Marvel had done their best to keep hidden from the public eye.

 

 

 

Robert Downey Jr. kept himself busy; reading over the few pages of script that the cast had been given, some days it felt like one page at a time. He hadn’t been called into make-up yet, waiting around in his grey undershirt and black sweatpants. Downey turned on his heel, making another pass at the length of the trailer and throwing his arms out to the side, rotating his shoulders, stretching through the tension and anger that he felt burning in the pit of his stomach. He was well-practiced at breathing through these frustrations, acknowledging the feeling, letting it flow through him, and releasing it with a breath resonating deep in his belly. Robert did it practically on instinct now.

As he exhaled, feeling the red heat of frustration rush through his body and leaving his thoughts, Robert felt the distinct heaviness in the air – he wasn’t alone.

“I know you all,” The familiar voice purred; deep, rich, and filled with sophistication, “and will awhile, uphold the unyoked humor of your idleness.”

“Tom!” Robert exclaimed, when he’d turned and found his –former?- co-star standing in full Loki regalia, in the center of his trailer, looking vibrant and well-rested, especially for the effort that Robert knew he had to go through to get into that get-up, “I didn’t know they were bringing you back! I got the biggest trailer on the lot and they still manage to keep me in the dark! Are you the reason that we’ve got all the flies buzzing around?”

“Ooh,” Loki purrs, “You miss those days of setting them straight – what would it take for you to go out there and split some skulls?”

Robert laughed because, really, what else was there to do at an idea like that?

“I never took you to be one for Method acting, Tom?”But Robert adopts a sly smile, straightens his posture and takes on the cocky mask of his character, “you here to goad us all into action, Loki? Didn’t make enough enemies the first go-round?”

“Yet herein will I imitate the sun,” Loki gestures to Robert’s chest, where Tony Stark’s arc-reactor shone underneath whatever casual outfit wardrobe had assigned him for the scene – more often than not, the wardrobe that wasn’t part of the ‘Metal Man’ were pulled from his own set of clothes.

“Shakespeare in the park?” Robert smiled, conjuring up an old line, and there was that trademark wicked grin of Loki’s, head canted down, eyes dark and burning with malice for whatever target he had within his sights.

“Mmm,” Loki hums in agreement, and continues, circling around Robert just out of his grasp, “Who doth permit the base contagious clouds to smother up his beauty from the world, so that when he please again to be himself, being wanted,” Tom’s voice sounds as though his mouth is just a breath away from his cheek, Robert knows he won’t be excusing this feeling so easily.

The way Tom’s voice deepens as he makes a pass behind him, Robert can feel goosebumps rising up on the back of his neck.

“Or maybe you’re just here to entertain me?” Robert interjects, and it is clear by his tone what he means by entertain – this is part Tony Stark and part Robert speaking now. He preferred the reformed bad boys – Jude comes to mind - keeping company with the men who had shared his propensity for a bad reputation in the rags the fans passed their time with in between his projects. But no one knew better than Robert, that you should never risk falling too far from favor.

It is as if Tom can read his thoughts because he stops in front of him. Maybe it is Robert’s imagination but Tom’s costume doesn’t smell like the special effects shop; the lingering hint of silicon and body paint, all chemicals and fresh metal. He can’t smell the faint hint of Tom’s usual cologne, either. There is something about Tom that reminds him of the smell of cold fog, mist, and ice.

“Can you even recall those feelings anymore, Robert? What it was like to be ‘unwanted?’”

There was that lofty, regal tone and that famous sneer, leering down at him – pure Loki - but Robert doesn’t miss a beat.

“Was there ever such a time?” He intones in his own haughty faux- British indignation, drawing more on Holmes than on Stark, “That’s one of the nice things about the business, Tom – or maybe you haven’t noticed? You are never ‘not wanted.’”

“Oh,” He says coolly, making another pass behind Robert, “But you were unwanted, about as desirable a dose of poison for some,” Loki pauses and observes the effect his words have but is disappointed when they do not seem to strike the cord in the lithe man that Loki had desired to see.

“Poison?” Robert laughs, “My, we’ve come a long way from the blushing public school boy, haven’t we? Or is this just another way of getting into character? We have pages for a fight scene that I haven’t gotten yet?”

“Yes,” Loki draws out, his voice low and rich, “he may be more wondered at by breaking through the foul and ugly mists of vapors that did seem to strangle him.”

Loki pauses and then lets out another satisfied hum, “I did enjoy the idea of wrapping my hand around your throat.”

“I’d ask if you were going to do it like you meant it this time but I am not so sure you won’t actually try to kill me. You’ve been flaying too many Romans on the London stage?” Robert laughs but then feels a cold rush down the back of his neck, not the warm breath of the man who is standing at his back.

“If all the year were playing holly-days, to sport would be as tedious as to work,” Another chill traveled down Robert’s back, Tom was not moving from behind him and the way his voice sounded in his ear, he could imagine that Tom’s lips were nearly pressed to Robert’s ear, but there was not a hint of warmth of his breath to imply that he was near.

Robert looked down to see a hand sliding along his chest, fingers splayed, coming to rest above his rapidly beating heart but there was no hint of warmth from Tom’s touch, just another flush of cold, gooseflesh, and he could feel his nipples rise to tight peaks beneath his shirt at the cold.

“But when they seldom come, they wished for come, and nothing pleaseth but rare accidents,” Loki could not resist, he pressed his lips to the warm, tan skin of Robert’s neck. This man was different from his brother. Thor was solid to the touch but there was something about this Midgardian, he was beginning to understand the appeal that this realm held for his brother. Loki could feel the life of this man thrumming against his cool lips and he remembered what it was like; the first time he had touched the Casket, feeling the cold taking him over. Touching this man was like being eaten up with steady warmth that crept into each pore of his icy skin. Loki could not resist taking in every inch this man could offer up to him.

Robert let his head fall back toward the man that stood behind him and felt the cold wrap around him. Robert closed his eyes, and figuring that it was just the layers of the costume that kept any of Tom’s heat from reaching him. All Robert could feel was a swell of cold that threatened to strip every bit of warmth from him. “I don’t see how you’re always so hot under that costume, it’s icy to the touch.”

Loki chuckled, a soft mocking laugh, pressing himself to the smaller man. He was not about to give this lesser creature the satisfaction of knowing that he could make him come undone by the simple fact that he occupied space in this pitiful realm.

“That is what this is, Robert, a rare accident.”

Robert shivered feeling the cold sliding down his body, pressed to the back of his thighs, and instead of causing his body to retract and recoil, he felt himself begin to harden under the aching cold. Robert groaned when he knew his arousal would be undeniably visible through his sweatpants if Tom happened to look down. Robert was watching now, as the slender, pale hands slid down his body, stopping at either side of his hips.

Soon the touch that Robert observed, ceased to cause a cold draft to settle about his body, and he watched those slender, long fingers wrap around his cloth-covered erection; a teasing, soft touch that has Robert moaning and pulling in long gulps of the cold hair that hung about them both.

Loki continued to whisper in his ear as his ministrations teased and played, enjoying how he could feel the mortal’s beating heart and warm blood in each inch of skin he graced with his fingertips.

“So when this loose behavior I throw off and pay the debt I never promised,” Loki purred in Robert’s ear.

Robert squirmed back against him when he felt the tightening and tension around his aching arousal, “Do you owe me this, Tom? I can’t remember-“ and whatever witty quip Robert was about to unfurl was cut short when the tension around his cock slackened, he whimpered at the loss.

Robert moaned, “Do I need to kneel and beg?”

The image was too good to overlook and as it consumed his mind’s eye it was now Loki’s turn to sigh with the heat of desire that he was completely unfamiliar with; there was no denying he enjoyed the new sensation and the foreign rush of heat that it sent through him, even if it was quickly chased from him by the usual chill that occupied his core.

“By how much better than my word I am,” That was it. Robert watched as Tom firmly held his arousal and stroked him until he was pushing against his fist, seeking release.

“By so much shall I falsify men’s hopes,” Loki continued to whisper in Robert’s ear as he felt him shiver and buck beneath his touch – he should evaporate now, disappear and leave him desperate. He may just see this man brought to his knees yet.

Despite the cold that Loki bombarded him with, this man emanated heat which seemed to increase with each pass of his hand and letting Robert burn in frustration was not what he had in mind.

“And like bright metal on a sullen ground, my reformation-“ Robert gasped loudly but Loki continued his ministrations, driving this weak, and easily manipulated man to his undoing, “glittering over my fault shall show more goodly, and attract more eyes, than that which hath no foil to set it off.” Loki’s fingers encircled the pulsing head of the other man’s arousal, and was surprised, and smugly satisfied, by the surrendering whimper, then followed by a cry of release that the man who burned hot in his arms emitted when he reached the pinnacle of his desire.

Robert fought to regain his breath, sucking in lungfuls of cold air, and then turning in the arms that still held him.

That smug, wicked grin never left Loki’s face but there was something about those big, brown eyes that looked up at him; Robert’s eyes held a sadness that never seemed to dissipate even with the pleasure and release still thrumming through his veins.

Robert raised a hand to cup the back of Tom’s head and bring his lips to that impious grin, “Not much strikes me speechless, Tom but you’ve managed quite nicely.”

But as Robert’s lips threaten to reach their target, he is left empty-handed, and reaching up toward nothing but air.

That laugh, Tom’s laugh – what he thought was Tom’s laugh, rumbled in Robert’s ear, “I’ll so offend to make offense a skill, redeeming time when men think least I will.”

Robert rubbed his hand across his face, shaking his head trying to grasp just what the hell had happened when he heard it again.

“When I return, and I will return, I will bring you to your knees.”

**Author's Note:**

> This was intended to be a one-off but I will entertain the idea of a follow-up - if there is anyone out there even halfway as entertained by this idea as I am.


End file.
